


Home Sweet Away

by James Teegarden (spacebass)



Series: Fellowspace [1]
Category: Fellowspace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 14:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebass/pseuds/James%20Teegarden
Series: Fellowspace [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207310





	1. Prologue: First contact with Earth and its subsequent induction into the Mirdiannyus

From Chapter 31 of the textbook ‘Planets of the Strangerspace’ by Taavalur Noji

“The planet Tsoliiv-sekai-3 was noted as having conditions hospitable for Turoth as unadjacently as 12m391k18e, but it was largely overlooked due to its distance from other inhabitable or resource-rich worlds. Research station Tsaaiaan-ajiaag has recently detected radio-length wave signals which we believe to be an undeniable sign of a technologically advancing sentient race,” satellite technician Met Tsaaiakji told a little-read cell of Vsiryth, the galaxy’s most prominent social-news platform. The esoteric groups who took interest in the discovery of a new sentient species were many, but still esoteric; it was an event common and inconsequential enough to warrant little more than a cell-panel of a few hundred thousand scattered zenstricians, political analysts, and bored nerds.

  
12m498k189e (May 18th, 2018) is widely considered the date of Earth’s first contact with aliens. Chile’s NANTEN2 Observatory reported signals later identified as contact attempts starting in February, followed by a long (and highly classified) international deliberation on how to proceed, a reply sent in 102 languages, and the opening of a cald-mei highspeed communications channel between Earth and Tsaaiaan-ajiaag. An official timeline of these events is unknown to the public, with ‘Contact Day’, a civic holiday in 13 countries, being the date that contact was first announced by the Canadian Space Agency, quickly becoming international news.

  
The news that Earth had not only discovered, but were actively speaking to, a sentient alien race was met as one might expect. On the internet, havoc broke loose, and while the landing site for the Turoth spacecraft Azeyeejan tried to be a closely-guarded secret, the ship’s arrival bore witness to the full spectrum of society: locals, politicians, scholars, skeptics, enthusiasts, religious leaders and fanatics, protestors and counter-protestors, a representation of Humanity far more accurate than any telegram the Turoth had received. Turoth astrobiologist-turned-diplomat Por Djaarkaji, fluent in over 90 languages both Turoth and alien, spoke before the United Nations General Assembly on June 30th, which remains the most viewed and discussed UN meeting to this day. The sight of a tusked, four-armed bestial creature towering above the delegates elicited a public response of equal parts terror and fascination, a fact looked back upon with amusement and countless high school history essays.

  
Months later, ten Humans traveled to the planet Ustregantu, the Orgecarro Sector’s political capital, to formally accept Earth’s invitation to join the Mirdiannyus. The Mirdiannyus, or ‘many truths’ in the language of Shaeingaal, represented almost every independent settlement in the galaxy in matters of politics, economy, and peacekeeping. Earth was one of 13 nations welcomed to the Mirdiannyus that day, alongside a newly launched city-ship, two asteroid outposts, six colonized moons, and the planets Sagrion, Sqaaswei, Chihilicaerariri, and Gnexograr.

  
Earth remains a close political ally of the Turoth and their territorial claims, though Humanity’s presence and influence outside of the Tsoliiv sector is limited.


	2. Chapter 2

15 years after Contact Day, life on Earth, for many, had changed but imperceptibly; spacecraft darted through the skies and alien creatures of every description walked the streets, but the sun came up each morning, awakening the cities with it, and Ottawa's public transit continued to arrive late. On this particularly cold and dark Friday morning, Anjali Deneb Bygran sat on a curb collecting snow, waiting for the bus that the schedules had been promising her for thirty minutes, forty-five by the time the bus lurched to her through the slush and unfurled its wheelchair ramp like a great rusted proboscis. She adjusted her facemask and texted her manager that she would be late.

Trucks circled the convention centre like huddled families outside a soup kitchen. The marshy forests that surrounded the centre’s sides and rear served double duty as wetlands conservation and a sound buffer from the nearby air and spaceport; it served an unintentional third purpose, drawing to itself all manner of cold, wet, foggy, and otherwise marshy weather. The presence of trucks in the way of Deneb’s usual bus stop made her commute feel reminiscent of driving on a riverbed in spring as she revved ineffectually across the unplowed parking lot. 

“Happy new year!” Her manager put down the boxes he was carrying.

“To you too, Justin! How was your Hannukah?” Deneb replied with her usual forced enthusiasm.

“It went well, my family’s doing well! How was Bangladesh? How’s your family doing?” 

“Good! It was good to see my mom’s side again. Thanks for waiting for me, what needs to get done?”

Formalities aside, Deneb got to work; reopening the convention centre after the holidays was no small task, even for the skilled electricians with whom she was doing her work placement. Moving crews darted all around her, muscular young Humans and giant hulking Turoth with their tusked, porcine snouts and four tridactyl hands; Deneb found it a wonder that Humans could still compete in the moving business. The electrical team was rewiring lights that were damaged by a winter storm. Unsurprising, given the roof’s tendency to spring leaks at even the slightest insult. And insult it got; the winter of 2033 was bound to make history for some of Canada’s heaviest snowfalls. For years, every time Deneb’s chair whined and struggled against the dirty ice in its wheels, she quietly wished she had chosen to study in Madras and live with her father’s family, instead of with her crazy roommates in this third, or perhaps ninth, circle of hell. 

“Good morning, _ondri_.” Deneb’s work was interrupted by a heavily-accented Qharrid man. His traditional Human business suit was custom fit to his long reptilian body and four thin arms, a tapered tube of black, durable fabric wrapped the tail on which he slithered towards her. 

“Thank you for the work you are doing for us.” His lizard face formed a smile-like expression and he extended towards her his lower left arm. Deneb reflexively reached out and shook his hand.

“Are you holding a convention?” She asked, promptly returning to rewiring a tall spotlight.

“We are indeed, _ondri_ , and Justin, your _dren olel’eb_ , tells me that you may be interested. It is an exhibition for careers in science off-world. It begins tomorrow at 0900, I would be happy to see you there.” His near-perfect English was supplemented with words of Shaeingaal, which Deneb was trying to learn online.

“That sounds great, uh, _razeri_ ,” Deneb hesitantly threw in a Shaeingaal word for practice, “I’ll think about it.”

“Your Shaeingaal is very good.”

“As is your English.”  
“When you travel the galaxy, you learn quickly.” The Qharrid smiled and nodded to Deneb and her colleague, who managed little more than a slight grimace in reply.

“Do you know that guy?” He asked as soon as the Qharrid was out of earshot.

“No.”

“Doesn’t that, well, freak you out a little? It might just be me, I dunno. Aliens, man.” He laughed.

Deneb had to stop for a second to formulate a response.

“No? He’s just a guy trying to promote his business. Whatever, you don’t have to go.” 

“I guess it’s nice not being the weird looking one for once.” 

Only able to muster a blank stare for a few seconds, Deneb returned to the breaker panel and shook her head.

“Can you pass me the wire strippers?”

* * *

“Yeah, it’s a job fair. My manager told the guy that I’d be interested.” Deneb kept the rail in a vice grip as the train car swayed back and forth.

“Well, are you interested? I thought you liked your job.”

“I’m not sure. It’s fun, but my manager is literally the only person there I can tolerate. It’s starting to seriously wear me out. I’m hoping to find something that’ll get me into my own place after I get my degree this summer.”

“C’mon, Moxie and I aren’t that bad… Wait, what about your master’s?”

“I dunno, Thatch.” Deneb whisked the air with her free hand, trying to find the right words.

As the train stuttered to a halt again, Thatch slapped their knees and stood up.

“It was nice talking to you! I’ll see you later!” 

“Wait, I thought you were going home,” Deneb asked, confused.

“Well, I’ve got the evening free and I thought it would be fun to drop by Space Sim again. Wanna come with me?”

“I don’t see why not.” Deneb undid her wheel locks and followed Thatch off the train.

The snow was blowing sideways, restricting visibility to little more than a few feet. Deneb yet again powered her way through the snow whilst cursing the weather under her breath. 

“Master’s degree, you and Moxie… Yes, yes, you guys are great. But I’m not sure this is the career path for me, y’know? I feel stuck. I’m always at school or work, or doing lab reports and stuff. I don’t even know if I want to do this for a living anymore.” Deneb sighed, repeatedly pulling her mask back over her nose.

“Jeez, alright. Isn’t 22 a little early for a midlife crisis?” 

“It’s an ongoing crisis.”

“What?”  
“It seems like everyone knows what they’re supposed to be doing at this age. You and Moxie sure seem like you do. I was just kinda okay with just going along with things, but I feel like I should be figuring things out by now. Y’know?”

Thatch nodded quietly. 

“Yeah. Uh, sure. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

The school door creaked open against the howling wind, slamming loudly shut as soon as the two managed their way inside. The familiar timeless hum and orange glow of the school’s ceiling lights greeted them.

“Deneb! Thatch! What a surprise.” Their high school chemistry teacher called from the door. 

“Some weather this is.” Thatch replied; Deneb remained quiet.

The small classroom was abuzz with students in the midst of preparation for a mission. Rapidly approaching was the Space Sim club’s time-honoured annual event: six students would spend a week in a drywall box pretending to trawl the depths of space; a ritual unchanged even by the Contact, save for two new alien students. Deneb found great relief in the knowledge that everyone who had known her in high school had graduated by now. 

“So, getting your bachelor’s this year! That’s exciting.” Her teacher sat on the desk while Thatch ran off to visit the club’s fake planetary surface. 

“Yeah, it is. Time to find a real job.” Deneb laughed uncomfortably.

“Good, very nice. Whatcha thinking of?”

“Not sure. I kind of just decided that I wasn’t doing a post-graduate degree. My manager invited me to a job fair, but it’s all space things.”

“I thought space was your whole thing! Just four years ago you were Space Sim club head.” Her teacher gestured grandly at the students rushing about around them; a pile of paper fell off of a shelf and fluttered to the ground.

“Not real space! I just don’t know what I want to do.”

“Something in elec engineering, I’d imagine.”  
“Enh. I’m sure something will work out. I’ll find a job.”

“You should go to the job fair.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Thatch waved their arms frantically to try and get Deneb’s attention; she said goodbye to her teacher and joined them on the planetary surface. Tinfoil and plaster covered the walls, painted bright blue to resemble Lavegantu, an uninhabitable planet whose icy mountains were the target of a joint Human-Turoth rover mission, the first of its kind in Human history. 

“Who are you?” A student approached them, covered head-to-toe in plaster and blue paint.

“I’m Thatch, and this is Deneb. We were the club heads here five years ago.” Thatch hesitantly stepped back from the student’s outstretched, paint-covered hand.

“Cool! Nice to meet you. Can you move? I’ve gotta do this wall.

* * *

Thatch and Deneb left the classroom, giving a quick wave to their teacher. The chatter grew quieter as they headed towards the exit.

“Well, that was brief,” Deneb said flatly.

“Yeah!” Thatch swung the door open and winced at the biting wind that slammed into them. 

“Everyone’s forgotten who I am.” Deneb muttered.

“I mean, same. We graduated before any of those kids started high school.” Thatch helped pull Deneb up over a snowbank.

“I feel like they should at least know of me for something; I was commander on the Pluto mission, I built the Engineering panel, y’know? I did stuff.”

“It happens.”

“Yeah.”

The train arrived and whisked the two noisily away through the underground. Deneb looked silently out the window at the blurry tunnel walls; Thatch played on their phone. Even in the city’s west end, the snow blew wildly in all directions and the bus shelters offered little protection. Foot-long icicles hung off of power lines, wind howled through every conceivable crevice, and both buses and Deneb’s chair alike whirred in place in a frozen exercise in futility. Thatch flung their apartment door open and collapsed onto the understuffed couch. 

“How was your day?” Moxie’s gravelly voice called from the kitchen.

“Oh my lord. Disgusting. Terrible. It’s so gross outside. I hate it.” Thatch bemoaned loudly.

“It was alright,” Deneb mumbled. “Are you making dinner?”

Moxie nodded and gestured to the oven; she was sitting on the kitchen counter and singing loudly and off-key to rock music emanating from the cheap tinny speaker on the counter. Deneb rolled over to the table and scrolled absently through the news on her phone. Earth news was uneventful, as always, so she flipped to Vsiryth and tried to understand as much of the Shaeingaal as she could. The smooth Shaeingaal script flowed top-to-bottom across her screen.

ZOIV UMASOKA OKOSIAV’EB MIRA VIK STRIS’JIQ NYRATALVI’EK OTSUN

_Research satellite finds a new planet with life in Otsun sector._ Unsurprising; Deneb kept scrolling.

ZCHAHRI ESCHEEL’IK DAK ESCOTRAV’EK MIORRI’EB GATHA’AV

_Two Sheelki killed in a work accident on Gathelei._ That’s unfortunate; also hundreds of light-years away.

ENR TOVA DIAZHEM SULVADIK’EB: ILIIRRUS TOZHEM EIYEN? 

_The galactic election is soon: are you able to vote?_ Deneb stopped and looked at the article title for a while. 

“Did you know there’s an election coming up?” She said aloud, clicking on it.

“Wasn’t there a provincial one in October?” Thatch replied from across the messy common room. 

“Maybe? I’m talking about a big one. Like, a galactic one.” 

“Oh? What about a galactic one?”  
“Just a sec, that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

_The 63rd great election for the Mirdiannyus general court is approaching. Voting opens in 18 standard days and will remain open for 32 standard days. Below are the eligible planets; click your planet to find your primary voting centres._

“Okay, so there’s an election for the central galactic government, in… I think about a month? And there’s places we can vote, I’ll find Earth’s.” Deneb mumbled, translating the article in her head.

_Abriga, Etirion, Ogant, Webyll-Danbadll, Karrachin… Laskaris… Miramac…_

“Oh, Earth’s not on here.”

“Oh? That sucks.” Thatch shrugged. 

“I guess we don’t meet the requirements yet.” Deneb put her phone down.

“We aren’t important. They don’t care.” Moxie laughed, setting the table. 

“We’re so new to the galaxy; I’m not surprised. No one knows who we are and no one here knows anything about space politics or whatever. They’ve gotta give planets voting ages too.” Thatch said.

“Yeah, I guess.” Deneb fidgeted with her chopsticks. 

Moxie turned off her music and sat down. 

“So how’s it going?”

“Not bad.” Thatch answered between mouthfuls of stir-fry. “Sat in on a court hearing again. Took a million notes. Gotta sift through them tonight before our debrief tomorrow.” 

“Fun, fun. Deneb?” Moxie smiled; Deneb just gave a thumbs-up and continued to eat.

“She got invited to a job fair.” Thatch chipped in.

“For the last time, I’m not going.” Deneb mumbled, mouth still full of food.

“Hey, I might go; you think they want any interstellar lawyers?” Thatch joked, poking Deneb in the arm.

Deneb shot both Thatch and Moxie an unamused glare.

“Okay, sorry.” 

The three finished their meal in silence. As soon as she was finished, Deneb took her bowl to the kitchen and left.

“Where’re you going?” Moxie called after her. “I thought we were watching the new Doctor Who tonight.” 

“I’ve gotta finish up my lab; I’ll watch it tomorrow. Talk to you later.”

* * *

Deneb awoke just before midnight and realized she had fallen asleep mid-video. Papers and clothes covered her ugly bedroom carpet and her textbook lay open in her lap, all dimly lit by her flickering computer monitor. Outside she could hear people drunkenly yelling and drag racing down the icy road. Fumbling around for her glasses, Deneb squinted at the screen, trying to make out what work she had left. Three more videos and a lab report, due in sixteen minutes. She forced herself awake and scrolled back to the start of the video. Her pen fell onto the floor and she saw the pile of once-organized papers that surrounded her chair, crumpled and strewn about. Deneb slammed her textbook shut and turned off her computer, wheeled to the bathroom and brushed her teeth while aggressively blinking back tears. 

“Hey. You’re up late.” Thatch stumbled into the doorway wearing only university sweatpants. 

“I am. Just let me finish up; I’ll be out quickly.” Deneb choked out.

“How’s the lab?”

Deneb paused. “I didn’t do it.”

“Oh?”

“I just can’t.” Deneb rinsed her mouth and left.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Thatch mumbled, closing the bathroom door. 

Deneb rolled defeatedly into bed and stared at the ceiling for what could have easily been ten minutes or two hours. After a long pause, she picked up her phone with a heavy sigh and set an alarm for 0700, before quickly falling asleep.


End file.
